The Mummy Case (15 page)

“Londy,” Frank said, “this is the last job you do with anybody. Egypt has laws against stealing mummies. You'll spend a lot of time in jail. All of you will.”

The Hardys, helping the police search the house, came upon Kemal's private collection in a large room at the rear. In one corner, they recognized the five pharaoh statuettes stolen from the New York museum. Panels representing scenes of hunting and war hung on the walls, and stones marked by hieroglyphics lay on shelves. But there was no trace of the mummy anywhere!

“This is a small museum!” the chief said grimly. “The contents must have been stolen from many owners.”

Joe pointed to the golden statuettes. “Those belong to the Egyptian Museum in New York. Ali stole them. We were commissioned by Curator Henry Wilcox to find them.”

“We will see that Wilcox gets them back,” the chief promised. “But first, all these things will have to be listed by a professional Egyptologist. I will phone for Mahmoud Salim at the museum.”

Salim arrived an hour later. He identified the mummy in the pickup as one that had disappeared from a dig conducted some time ago. Taking out a notebook, he inspected Kemal's collection and listed the pieces.

The professor finally broke down and confessed that for years he had been buying stolen Egyptian artifacts.

“We will take this gang to jail,” the chief declared. “We have all the evidence we need to build a case against them.”

While his officers handcuffed the prisoners, he turned to Frank and Joe. “You have done a great service to my country, and I wish to thank you for your excellent detective work,” he said with a grateful smile.

But Frank looked glum. “Trouble is, we did not quite accomplish what we set out to do.”

“What is that?” the chief asked curiously.

“Find the missing mummy!”

The chief questioned Kemal, but the professor refused to reveal where the mummy was. Finally the prisoners were taken to the squad cars for transportation to the Cairo prison. The chief dropped the Hardys off at the museum, where they reported the capture of the thieves and the recovery of the stolen artifacts.

The curator was shocked to hear that Professor Kemal was the customer of the gang. “One of my trusted staff members!” he wailed. “I just cannot believe it!”

“Would you mind if we called New York?” Frank asked. “I'd like to tell Mr. Wilcox about the result of our search.”

“Please,” the curator offered and nervously handed Frank the telephone. “He will be very upset about the missing mummy!”

It turned out that Wilcox was not in, so Frank spoke to William Colden. Colden commended the boys on finding the stolen statuettes. “Sam Radley had no success with his investigation,” he said. “No wonder. The thieves were in Egypt.”

He paused for a moment, then went on, “But how could you possibly lose the mummy? That's what we sent you to Cairo for. You'd better stay and find it!”

“I have a hunch it isn't here,” Frank said. “We'd like to return to New York and follow a lead.”

There was another pause. Then Colden said, “When are you coming in?”

“We'll try to get seats on the next flight,” Frank replied.

After he hung up, Joe looked at him question ingly. “What lead in New York were you talking about?”

“I just had a hunch, and I could kick myself for not thinking of it sooner!”

“What?”

“The mummy may have never left New York!”

Joe stared at him, then slapped his forehead with the palm of his right hand. “Of course! We may have been guarding an empty casket all along!”

“Norma was still at the museum when we went to Bayport before our trip,” Frank continued. “Perhaps she managed to remove the mummy just before the case was sealed!”

After picking up their bags from the Nile-Hilton Hotel, the Hardys took a taxi to the airport. They were lucky to get two seats on a flight that was leaving only an hour later and would arrive in New York late that afternoon.

“It's really much longer than it seems,” Joe said with a grin, “because of the time difference.”

“That's all right with me,” Frank said. “I'm so tired I'll sleep all the way to New York.”

They arrived at Kennedy Airport relatively rested, even though they were somewhat stiff from the long trip in cramped quarters. After they had cleared their luggage through customs, they heard an announcemen over the loudspeaker.

“Frank and Joe Hardy, please report to the information desk!”

A man was waiting for them. “I'm Stan Jelke,” he introduced himself. “Mr. Wilcox sent me. I have a car waiting outside.”

“Great!” Frank said. “It'll save us catching a taxi.”

Jelke ushered them into the back seat of a green sedan and slammed the door. Then he climbed behind the wheel and started the car. A glass partition separated him from the Hardys in the rear.

Frank and Joe, preoccupied with the problem of finding the mummy, took little notice of the ride to Manhattan. Suddenly Joe pointed. “Frank! We're supposed to go uptown but we're headed for the docks!”

“You're right. I guess this guy got lost. We'd better tell him.”

Frank rapped on the glass partition, but the driver paid no attention.

“He must be deaf! Frank muttered and hammered more loudly on the glass.

The driver looked at him in the rearview mirror and leered threateningly.

Joe tried the door handle on his side. “It's locked!” he cried.

Frank found his door was locked, too. “We're being kidnapped!”

“Can we break through this glass?” Joe asked.

“Let's try.”

They were searching along the edge of the glass where it joined the front seat, when the driver pressed a button on the dashboard. Gas seeped into the back seat and almost instantly the Hardys blacked out!

They came to feeling groggy and weak. Breathing deeply to clear their heads, they looked around. They were in a small room covered with dust and cobwebs. Some two-by-fours were stacked on end in one corner, and a number of broken crates lined one wall. The glass in the narrow, barred window was shattered.

The boys pulled themselves to their feet. “Where are we?” Joe asked.

Frank walked to the window and looked out. “Must be a warehouse near the docks,” he reported. “Obviously it hasn't been used for years. We're on the top floor.”

Joe had tried the door. “And we're locked in,” he added.

“My hunch was right,” Frank muttered. “Now I'm sure the mummy isn't in Egypt but in New York. And William Colden was the only person who knew we were coming back!”

“The people in Cairo knew it,” Joe pointed out. “They could have called someone.”

“H'm. But then, Colden was the one who supervised the crating of the mummy case. He's a prime suspect in our case, Joe! But how can we prove it if we don't get out of this dump?”

“I have an idea! Joe's eyes lighted up. He pulled out of his pocket the emergency kit his father had given him on Rubassa and went to the door. He tried the various miniature tools on the lock, but to no avail. ”You think that little explosive capsule would work?“ he asked his brother.

“Shove it into the lock as far as you can,” Frank advised. “Then we'll hit it with a two-by-four.”

Their plan worked. When Frank activated the capsule, there was a tremendous noise and heavy smoke enveloped the room. But the door had burst open!

Holding their noses, the young detectives stumbled out of their prison. They ran down the stairs, gasping and coughing, then stopped on the landing for a moment to recover.

Finally Frank said, “Let's get a cab and go straight to the museum!”

When they arrived, they found Mr. Wilcox in his office. He had not sent the car to pick them up. Instantly he called in Najeeb Salim and William Colden and told them what had happened to the Hardy boys.

“Mr. Salim, did you know we were coming back from Egypt today?” Frank questioned the assistant curator.

“No. I had no idea. As a matter of fact, I've just returned to the museum this afternoon. I have been convalescing until today.”

“And you were in the hospital when the mummy was prepared for the trip,” Joe added.

Salim nodded. “Of course. You took me there yourself.”

“But Mr. Colden supervised the crating, and he knew we were coming into Kennedy Airport,” Frank said slowly.

Colden stared at him. “So? What are you trying to say?”

“That you removed the mummy before we took the coffin aboard the
Admiral Halsey
!
”

Colden turned ashen white. Then he snarled. “You're crazy! The Egyptian sun must have been too much for you!”

“You wanted to create the impression that the pharaoh had been removed aboard ship,” Frank continued. “You, Ali, and Norma Jones didn't want Mr. Salim, or
anyone,
to accompany the empty crate to Egypt. And Norma served you only half a cup of coffee so it would look as if you and Mr. Salim had both drunk the poison. But when you realized we were going to escort the mummy, Ali and Londy were told to do everything possible to make us think it had been stolen on board.”

Colden jumped up from his seat. “This is utterly ridiculous!” he screamed. “Mr. Wilcox, how can you sit there and have these young whippersnap pers accuse me?”

“Aren't you wondering why you haven't heard from your friends in Cairo?” Joe put in before Wilcox had a chance to comment. “It's because Fuad Kemal, Ahmed Ali, Butch Londy, and Norma Jones are in jail, together with the rest of the gang!”

“And aren't you wondering if they talked?” Frank prodded.

Colden covered his face with his hands while Wilcox and Salim stared in surprise. Finally the curator regained his composure. “I'd better call the police,” he said, his voice shaking.

Two officers arrived and Wilcox gave them permission to search Colden's office for clues. Frank and Joe joined one of them, while the other remained to guard Colden.

The group searched the assistant curator's desk, his files, and his telephone directory for clues. Frank opened the closet. It was quite large, and he went inside. Pushing aside some lab coats and Colden's jacket, he began to examine closely the top shelf, the walls, and the floor. One of the wooden floorboards appeared to be loose at one end. He lifted it and found that the adjoining boards came up, too. Excited, Frank removed them and found an oblong box, about five feet in length, underneath.

“Joe!” he cried out. “Come here, quick!”

The boys stared at the box for a moment, then took it out and put it on the rug in the office. They removed the lid and shouted with joy.

In the box lay the missing mummy!

It was swathed from head to foot in the tightly bound linen they remembered so well, and the two artificial eyes gleamed through the holes in the bandage.

“You were right, Frank! Joe said. ”Our mummy never left this museum! It's been here all along—just waiting to be sold by Colden. Come on, let's show it to Mr. Wilcox!“

When the curator saw the box, he looked at it in awe. “This is incredible!” he finally murmured.

“You boys did a wonderful job,” Najeeb Salim said admiringly. “I'm happy you were on hand when I was poisoned. And,” he added with a weak smile, “I'm glad not to be under suspicion any longer!”

Frank and Joe were glad, too. Yet, the same thought went through both their minds. Would they ever be called on another case? They had no idea that soon they would be working on the
Mystery of Smugglers Cove.

Just then the telephone rang. It was Colden's secretary. “A Mr. Stan Jelke is waiting in his car downstairs for Mr. Colden,” she told Wilcox, who had answered the call. “He said Mr. Colden was to be ready for him, but I know he's in your office—”

“Bill will be right down,” Wilcox replied. “Tell Jelke to wait.” He hung up and turned to his assistant, who had already been handcuffed. “Who's Stan Jelke?”

Frank spoke up. “He's the chauffeur Colden sent to take us to the warehouse!”

“We'll arrest him downstairs,” the police officer in charge said. “Come along, Mr. Colden.”

Colden stood up and shrugged. “I tried my best to frighten you Hardys off the case,” he muttered. “What did I do wrong?”

“You wouldn't listen to the pharaoh's warning,” Frank replied. “He was trying to tell you that crime doesn't pay.”